


Is This A Date?

by popfly



Category: Schitt's Creek (TV) RPF
Genre: Multi, Pre-Polyam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/popfly/pseuds/popfly
Summary: Clare and Noah figure out they kind of want to date Dan.
Relationships: Clare Stone/Dan Levy/Noah Reid
Comments: 12
Kudos: 38





	Is This A Date?

**Author's Note:**

> Love writing 3K on my phone in the middle of the night. Wouldn't have gotten posted without the validation and beta brilliance of TINN and Gray, of course.

It’s a pretty standard Tuesday night. There’s a bottle of wine open on the table, mostly empty. Noah pokes at keys on the piano, trying to decide if he really wants to play something or not. Clare is sprawled on the couch, doing something on her phone. She giggles, and Noah glances over. Her hair spills over the cushions; she’s almost glowing in the moonlight coming through the window. She’s so pretty. Her wine glass is on the floor, empty, and he gets up to refill it.

He scoops it up and ducks in to kiss her cheek while he’s bent down. It creases under his lips as she smiles. “Dan is texting,” she says, her consonants less crisp than usual. Noah goes into the dining room and sloshes the last of the wine into her glass and squints at it, then decides to open another bottle. The night is young and they have nowhere to be in the morning. 

“Yeah?” He says, refilling his own glass next and carrying them both out to the living room. Clare sits up to accept hers and takes a drink, tapping at her phone screen one-handed. A second goes by and she giggles again. “What’s so funny?”

“Dan,” she says. She sets her glass back on the floor and tips sideways to lean against Noah’s shoulder, typing with both hands now. Her hair spills across his arm and he sifts his fingers through the silky strands. “He’s telling me about his last date.”

Noah hums. He leans his head back against the couch and lets his eyes fall closed, soothed by the warmth of Clare at his side and the wine in his belly. Clare shakes as she laughs again, and it makes him smile. 

“Seriously, Dan is so funny,” Clare says, and she holds up her phone for Noah to see. He can’t make out the words, but he can see the gifs, the strings of emojis. He knows how funny Dan is though, how good he is at spinning a story, especially if it gives him the chance for self-deprecation, as his dating stories often do. 

“He is,” Noah agrees, and Clare lowers her hand, dropping it and her phone to Noah’s thigh. 

“So funny,” she repeats, and sighs. Noah tilts his head until his cheek is pressed to the crown of her head. He manages a sip of wine without spilling any on himself or Clare. “And kind. I hate that guys don’t see how great he is.” 

“It doesn’t make any sense.” Noah nods against Clare’s hair. “He’s a catch.”

“He’s the best,” Clare says, suddenly fervent. She sits up, jostling Noah enough that he worries for his wine, but it stays in the glass. “Noah, Dan is the best.”

“I know, babe.” He does. Boy, does he. Dan is the nicest, even with his sharp humor and quick temper, and he’s so funny. He’s eloquent, and thoughtful, and hot. 

Clare giggles again, and Noah realizes he’s said that last bit out loud. He blinks, feels warmth in his cheeks, and thinks he should maybe say something else—a denial or a qualification—but Clare beats him to it. “God, he really is.”

“Maybe you should date him,” Noah teases, and she outright laughs at that, leaning back into his side. She snuggles in until he lifts his arm and puts it around her to hold her to his chest.

“If only,” she says. “Hey, maybe you could.”

Noah laughs, but it’s a little strangled. The wine fog clears slightly, cut through by shards of memories, of filming kisses and hugs and tender moments in a set bed. He frowns then, and holds Clare a little tighter, and drinks more of his wine.

***

“Hey, wanna see a movie with Dan next week?” Clare asks a few days later, as Noah cleans up their dinner. She’s still at the table, elbows on her placemat, phone in her hands. 

“How come he never texts me anymore?” Noah asks, loading the dishwasher. 

“Because he loves me best. Thursday night?”

“Yeah, sounds good.” Noah rinses a pan, sets it in the tray. “Ask him if he wants to come to dinner before.”

“Good idea.” 

Noah finishes in the kitchen and goes to put on a record. Clare finishes with her phone and gets up from the table. “He’s in,” she says, stepping right into Noah’s space, arms around his waist. Noah puts his hands on her hips, his face in her hair. They sway together to the music, and Noah can feel Clare’s smile against his neck. “It’ll be nice to hang out with him, now that everything is over.”

“Yeah,” Noah agrees. “We haven’t yet, just the three of us, since we wrapped.”

They haven’t talked a lot either, Noah and Dan, since the wrap party. Although apparently Dan and Clare have. 

“We should start a group text thread,” he says, and Clare pulls back, grin already spreading across her face. 

“Aw, babe. Are you jealous of me and Dan?”

“Shut up,” he says, and she laughs, leaning forward for a kiss.

“I could, but he’ll probably still text me about you anyway. Your lack of emoji usage makes him angry.”

“I’ll try to up my game,” Noah says, and Clare slides her hand up his back, curling it around his neck.

***

They plan a bit of a menu for dinner with Dan, because it’s always more fun to cook for someone who will really appreciate it. Clare fusses at the bar cart, and then decides she needs to make a liquor store run while Noah gets the food—and himself—ready. 

As the bolognese simmers, Noah tries on and discards three pairs of jeans and four shirts. He feels sillier every time he changes, because it’s just Dan. Dan has seen him in sweats, both on set and off, in swim shorts, in his rattiest tees that he slept in and couldn’t bother taking off before early morning call times. But Noah wants to look nice tonight, because they haven’t all hung out in a while, and they’re having dinner, and it feels like the kind of night you should look nice for. 

He ends up in a pair of jeans he took from wardrobe and a black henley. He cuffs the jeans and then stands in the middle of the bedroom, waffling about whether or not he should put on socks, and that’s how Clare finds him when she comes home. 

“What are you doing?” She asks, leaning against the door frame and raising her eyebrows. There’s something knowing lurking around the corners of her mouth that makes Noah uncomfortable for some reason, makes him want to strip down and put on something more casual.

“Thinking about socks,” he says. Then he gives her a once over. She’d gotten ready while he was putting the sauce together, and slipped out the door before he really had a chance to take stock. She looks stunning, in a blue wrap blouse that brings out her eyes and a pair of linen pants that he remembers Dan complimenting in Italy. “Look at you,” he says, and she looks down at herself, eyelashes a jet black sweep against her cheeks. She’s wearing makeup. “You look gorgeous.”

When Clare looks back up she’s blushing, and now he feels something knowing lurking around the corners of his own mouth, because she rarely wears makeup but she put it on for Dan. She narrows her eyes. “Put your socks on. I’m going to go make the salad.”

Ten minutes before Dan is set to arrive there’s nothing left to do in the kitchen, and Noah finds himself shoulder to shoulder with Clare at their bathroom counter, inspecting their reflections. 

“Does my hair always look like this?” Noah asks, pinching a couple of grown out curls over his forehead that don’t want to behave. 

“Does _my_ hair always look like this?” Clare echoes, trying futilely to get the stick straight ends of it to flip up around her fingers. They catch each other's eyes in the mirror and, after a beat, they both laugh. 

Then the doorbell rings, and Noah feels a flutter of nerves in his stomach. Clare tosses her head one last time, filling the air with the scent of jasmine from the oil she wears, and says, “Come on.”

Noah trails her to the door and stands back so she can open it for Dan. He comes in immediately, gathering Clare up in his arms for a squeeze. He’s looking at Noah over Clare’s shoulder, biting the corner of his smile.

“Hi,” Dan says, holding Clare back by her shoulders. “You’re stunning,” he says and kisses her cheek. She giggles, and shoves him at Noah, who gets his own squeeze. “You’re alright, I suppose,” Dan says when he lets go, and Noah can’t stop smiling. 

“Come in, come on, dinner’s almost ready,” Clare says, and takes Dan’s hand to drag him off to the dining room. Dan comments on their new plants, trailing his free hand along the leaves of one hanging over the archway, looking back over his shoulder at Noah. Noah shrugs sort of helplessly, and goes into the kitchen to dish everyone up. 

Clare and Dan are at the bar cart mixing cocktails as Noah carries things out to the table. “You want?” Dan asks, and Noah pulls up short, palms sweating inside his oven mitts. Dan brandishes the cocktail shaker, and Clare’s grin is just visible over his arm. “We’re making Negronis.”

Which explains Clare’s trip to the liquor store, because they don’t regularly have Campari in the house. That was extra thoughtful of her. “I didn’t know we had the ingredients for those,” he says, and Clare gives him a mock-glare. He nods to Dan. “Yeah, I’ll take one, thanks.”

There’s always that concern with coworkers, that even though you’re friends you’ll run out of things to talk about once the work ends. But it’s not like that with Dan at all. Especially with Clare there; Clare and Dan have a way of talking in half-sentences, expressing more with their laughter and arm touching than Noah usually can with words. Dan will cock his eyebrow and press his fingers to Clare’s wrist, and she just immediately gets it. Noah watches their back and forth like it’s a tennis game, cocktail condensing on a coaster, completely forgotten.

“This is delicious,” Dan says, after a forkful of pasta. He pokes the air in Noah’s direction. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“I’ve cooked for you!” Noah protests, and Clare skims her hand against the back of his neck as she stands up to clear their salad plates, carrying them into the kitchen. 

“Mmhm, making pizza and grilling burgers seems sort of pedestrian compared to this spread.” Dan sips his drink through a smirk, and Noah rolls his eyes. 

“This isn’t even that fancy,” he insists. “And I only made the sauce and boiled noodles. Clare did everything else.” 

“Well, I appreciate it.” Dan smiles a genuine smile, a soft, pleased one that always makes Noah’s chest swell with pride, and takes another piece of cheesy garlic bread. Clare touches Dan’s biceps as she passes, headed back to her chair with a fresh drink. She scoops her hair over her shoulder with her hand, so it glides over her collarbone in a sleek fall. 

It’s a practiced move, one Noah hasn’t seen her make in a while. It pings something in his brain, and he mulls it over while he takes the last piece of bread and they finish their drinks. He only figures it out as they start cleaning up and talking about leaving for the theater. 

When Clare gets up to clear more plates, Noah stands to help. Dan makes noise about helping as well, but Clare and Noah both insist he’s their guest and doesn’t need to, leaving him at the table to go into the kitchen. 

“You are totally flirting with Dan!” Noah says as soon as they’re out of earshot. He turns on the faucet for more cover, but doesn’t start rinsing plates yet. He watches color rise in Clare’s cheeks, under her carefully applied blush. She scoffs, but no denial comes. 

“What about you? You keep looking at him from under your eyelashes! That is a classic Noah Reid seduction move!” 

“I am—” He’s not. He doesn’t think he is. He wouldn’t. He’s not trying to seduce Dan! He opens his mouth, intent on finishing his denial, but finds he can’t. Because he totally has been. Shit.

Clare puts her hand over her face, and Noah’s heart drops to his socked feet. He reaches out for her, and as soon as he touches her shoulder he realizes she’s shaking. With laughter.

“Are we wooing Dan right now?” She asks through her fingers. Noah looks around the kitchen, at the pot of bolognese and the freshly stocked bar cart. There’s a vase of flowers out on the table, a candle lit in the living room. He snorts, unable to help himself, and curls his fingers tighter over Clare’s shoulder.

“Shit,” he repeats, this time out loud, because it’s all he can think to say. Clare is still laughing. She takes her hand off her face and covers Noah’s hand on her shoulder, sliding her cool, slim fingers between his own. 

“We maybe should have asked him first before we start trying to date him.”

Noah gapes at her, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask her what the hell she means by that because Dan ducks his head around the corner. 

“Finish canoodling and cleaning up, we should get going if we don’t want to miss previews.”

***

At the theater, they walk to their seats with Dan between them, and he doesn’t argue when they flank him. Noah knows that Dan wants to keep control of the popcorn bucket, so this is just the logical solution. It has nothing to do with their conversation in the kitchen. It’s just smart popcorn logistics.

Noah can’t help the way his attention is drawn away from the movie by the firm line of warmth that is Dan’s thigh pressed to Noah’s, or the way Clare leaves her hand open on the armrest like she wants someone to hold it, or the feeling of Dan’s butter-slick fingers brushing Noah’s when they both reach for popcorn at the same time. The movie is good, what Noah catches of it, his attention fucked by the whole situation, the spicy smell of Dan’s cologne not helping at all.

They walk back to Clare and Noah’s place after, because it’s an unseasonably warm night, and the sky is clear, and they ate a ridiculous amount of popcorn on top of their dinner. Clare tucks her arm through Dan’s, and Dan bumps his shoulder against Noah’s, and they laugh the whole way home as Dan reviews the movie with acerbic wit.

As they draw closer to the front door, Noah feels that flutter of nerves in his stomach again, and he imagines they’re on a real date. That they could invite Dan in and he would get it, would say yes. What that would mean. 

But it’s not, because … well, there are a million reasons why not. Noah bites down on a frown, and catches a similar expression flit across Clare’s face as she fiddles with her keys. 

They could still ask him in for a drink. Friends can have a post-movie drink. That’s not only a date thing. It might not end the same way, but at least it would extend the evening. Noah is about to ask when Dan looks down at his shoes and then up, ensnaring both Clare and Noah with a piercing look. 

“This felt like a date,” he says, and Noah feels an icy rush of adrenaline in his veins. Clare looks panicked, but Dan’s mouth is curling up at the corner, and Noah reaches out to brush his knuckles against her elbow.

“We didn’t mean for it to,” Noah says, and the curl of Dan’s mouth starts to droop. “We realized about halfway through that we wanted it to be.”

“But you can’t just spring a date on someone without asking,” Clare interjects. “We know that. Especially since,” she gestures to herself, and then vaguely to Dan. “You know.” 

Dan laughs, a soft exhale of breath, and shrugs a shoulder. “You could ask. If you wanted. For another time. I would say yes.”

There’s another beat of shocked silence, in which Noah’s brain tries to reframe several years of his life but can’t quite manage. Clare is smiling though, the bright, happy smile that lights up a room, or a front porch in this case. She scoops her hair over her shoulder and says, coy, “Maybe we will then.”

She reaches out for Noah as she steps into Dan’s space, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek. Noah mirrors the action on Dan’s other side, relishing the scrape of stubble against his lips, and then they both step back. 

“Good night,” Dan says, as he backs down the walk towards his car. Noah flips him a wave as Clare unlocks the door and drags him inside. 

They close it, latch it, and then lean back against it, shoulder to shoulder. Noah glances over at her, and she’s already looking at him. There’s wonder in her eyes, mouth stretched in that room-lighting smile again. 

“Holy shit,” Noah says, and Clare laughs. She pulls him down for a kiss. 

Both of their phones chime simultaneously, and they both reach for them to check the message. 

It’s the start of a new thread, a group text between Dan and Clare and Noah. 

_I had a really great time tonight._ it says, followed by two winking kiss face emojis. 

Clare raises her eyebrows at Noah, and he grins. “I should be able to find a ‘want to be in a polyamorous relationship’ gif pretty easily, right?” He spins on his heel to go to their room, to get ready for bed, and smiles to himself as Clare lectures him on proper gif etiquette the whole way.


End file.
